TWA 847
by TwilightSparkle3562
Summary: On June 14, 1985, Daphne Blake and Fred Jones were returning home to the United States from a vacation in Greece when their plane, TWA Flight 847, is hijacked by two Arab terrorists. Now, being shuttled between Beirut and Algiers, Daphne, Fred and their fellow passengers and crew must rely on each other in order to survive their ordeal.
1. Summer of Hell

Disclaimer: I do not own "Scooby Doo," or its characters. They are property of Warner Bros. Studios and Hanna Barbera Productions.

Dedicated in memory of Robert Dean Stethem (1961-1985); Captain John Testrake (1928-1996) and Uli Derickson (1944-2005). May you all never be forgotten.

"TWA 847"

By TwilightSparkle3562

Chapter 1

"Summer of Hell"

As I stand at the memorial for Daphne Blake and all the victims of Pan Am Flight 103, it is hard to believe that it has been nearly 30 years since the love of my life had left me in the skies over Lockerbie, Scotland. Every day, it seems like Daphne had never left me to begin with in a spiritual manner and in the days since the bombing of Pan Am Flight 103, I always began to think back on the spiritual connection that she had with God. It seemed like God had chosen Daphne to be his earthly vessel, much like what he did with his own son, Jesus Christ, over 2,000 years ago.

There was, however, one period of time where Daphne had been used as a vessel for God and it happened in another time three years before that fateful night in Lockerbie. You see, it was on another aircraft that gained national attention in the summer of 1985.

It all began after we just finished our freshman year at Syracuse University. Daphne and I were on a working vacation in Greece, since our professor at the time had assigned us to make a documentary about the history of Greece for our first assignment to be presented on the first day of the new school year the following September.

On the morning of June 14, 1985, Daphne and I were in our hotel room in the center of Athens getting ready to head over to Ellinikion Airport for what supposed to be a transatlantic flight on Trans World Airlines, or TWA for short, to New York/JFK and then after going through US Immigration and Customs at Kennedy Airport, a short regional flight on TWA Express back to Syracuse, NY. Of course, little did we know, that our carefully made out plans were not to be made possible.

"Freddie, did you make sure all my bathing suits were packed?" asked Daphne as we sat in our hotel room.

"Yes, Daphne," I said, slight annoyed. "They are all in your suitcase."

Being a woman, Daphne had to always make sure that she looked beautiful before stepping out in public. On this day, she was wearing her purple business suit that she later wore when we got sucked into Eric's computer game and on the ill-fated flight over Lockerbie. I had chosen to wear just a white shirt and blue jeans.

"Thanks, Freddie," said Daphne, who had finished fixing her hair and makeup. "We need to make sure we have everything before we leave."

"I'm pretty sure we do," I said as Daphne walked past me. "Our camera and other equipment is all packed and ready to be checked in. I'm pretty sure you are looking forward to getting back."

All Daphne could do was give a small smile. Travelling to her, while exciting, was also very stressful. There was the matter of making sure she had everything she had packed, not to mention the fear of being hijacked by terrorists or crazed idiots to countries such as an Arab country or all the way to Cuba. Not to mention that Athens had the worst airport security in the world.

"The sooner we get out of here, the better," replied Daphne. "I love Greece and making films for our class, but it is even better to get back home."

After grabbing her purse with her passport inside, I followed Daphne down to the hotel lobby where we checked out and hopped a taxi over to the TWA check in counter at Athens Airport. During the ride over, we were listening to news of unrest in Lebanon which made Daphne feel nervous.

"Crazy activity in Lebanon, eh?" remarked the taxi driver. "I hope to God that everything settles down soon."

"Indeed," I remarked. "How long do you think that this unrest is going to go on?"

"I hope not for very long," sighed the driver as we approached Ellinkion Airport. "I still remember that Air France flight that was hijacked a few years ago to Africa. Makes me want to move to another country."

We both knew that the terrorists who hijacked that Air France flight had only hijacked the aircraft to gain the release of jailed comrades. 1985 was already a year of several notable aircraft disasters and we would soon be joining that list, although we didn't know it at the time.

Meanwhile, leaving from their own hotel, two well-dressed Arab men were already on their way to the airport as well. Like us, they had a ticket on Trans World Airlines to New York/JFK, but they had no intention of going to the United States.

"Have you look over the instructions, Mustafa?" asked the man in Arabic, dressed in a white suit. "Do you know what needs to be done?"

"Yes, Abdul," replied the man in Arabic dressed in a brown suit. "We are to hijack the plane to Beirut and demand the release of our comrades jailed in Israel and other countries."

"May Allah be praised," they both said, much to the taxi driver's confusion, who didn't understand their language aside from English and his own.

As soon as we got to the airport, we approached the Trans World Airlines ticket counter getting ready to check in for TWA Flight 881 to New York/JFK on a Boeing 747 continuing on to Syracuse, NY on a Boeing 727. Of course, that was not to be.

"Your attention, please?" said a TWA agent on a loudspeaker. "Due to Aircraft Maintenance, Flight 881 to New York has been cancelled. Please see gate agent for rebookings."

This of course, did not boast well with us and knowing our plans for a nonstop flight to New York had been scrapped, we followed a hoard of people who had tickets for the same flight. Upon arrival at the TWA check in counter, we were given a variety of rebookings to other flights.

"We have two seats together in first class on a flight to New York that is departing from Rome," said the agent. "You will need to check in for Flight 847 which is departing at 12:30pm from gate 11."

"As long as we get home, then we'll take it," I told the agent, who printed out our new boarding cards.

Little did we know that the two Arab men that I talked about earlier were also going to be on the same flight as us…


	2. Boarding Flight 847

Chapter 2

"Boarding Flight 847"

As soon as we learned that our original flight was cancelled, Daphne and I headed to gate 11 in the US Departures terminal at Athens' Ellinkinon Airport. TWA Flight 847 was a Boeing 727 that had arrived earlier that morning from Cairo, Egypt and was scheduled to travel on to Rome and then on to London. A fresh crew was brought on to fly the jet to Rome which included a devout Christian named John Testrake, who was from Missouri and had been a pilot since the Korean War.

After we had arrived at our gate, we discovered numerous passengers that had just arrived off an EL AL flight from Tel Aviv. Like us, they were to connect to Flight 881 and ended up on Flight 847. Daphne and I had just happened to be listening in on a friendly conversation between two middle aged couples.

"I thought you would like to know we are celebrating our silver wedding anniversary," said a middle aged man to a middle aged another couple.

"Ah, Mazel Tov," they said in reply.

"Don't congratulate us," said the man. "We would have gotten divorced years ago, but neither one of us wanted custody of our kids."

"Oh, please, don't listen to him," laughed his wife. "If it was up to him, he would have spoiled them rotten."

At that moment, one of the middle aged wives got up and walked over to the Duty Free, with the other wife joining them. This gave the two husbands a chance to get to know one another.

"Barry Goldman, Philadelphia," said the white haired man, shaking the other man's hand.

"Ben Kaplan, New York," said the other, shaking his hand in reply.

With the two men getting to know one another, we watched as more and more passengers arrived, including three men who were divers for the American Navy. It was nice to see American servicemen on board the flight as my father had served in the navy. Also at that moment, we saw what appeared to be a repairman making his way towards the plane. Just seeing the look on his face had gotten me thinking that there was something more to this than met the eye.

"Hey, Freddie," said Daphne, rising to her feet and distracting my attention. "I'm just gonna walk over to the Duty Free for a second."

"All right, Daph," I replied, still keeping my eye on the gentlemen in question.

Meanwhile, the crew of Flight 847 were down in the TWA office doing their pre-flight briefing before their short flight to Rome. Captain Testrake opened the meeting as soon as his eight membered crew were brought in for the meeting.

"All right," he said, reading over a stack of papers. "According to the manifest, we have a full flight this morning. A flight to New York has been cancelled and we are to take a load of passengers to Rome."

"What do you think could have happened?" asked Uli Derickson, the flight's purser. "Could it have been related to that memo we got last night?"

"That memo about terrorist wanting to hijack a plane?" remarked Elizabeth, another one of the flight attendants.

"What is important is that our company takes precautions," explained John, placing the papers back down on the desk. "Although I will admit it is wrong to hide the truth from our passengers."

Just then, Captain Testrake's friend, Ben Zimmerman, who was the flight engineer on Flight 847, placed his input on the situation.

"I agree with you, John," said Ben. "Perhaps we need to let the company know about what we think of the situation."

"Let's just all pray to God that we don't have a situation like this," replied John. "Now, I know that Athens has had a bad reputation for airport security, but let's just hope that we don't encounter anything similar to what happened nearly nine years ago."

The events of Entebbe were still fresh in their minds and it certainly was on the minds of us too. In fact, I couldn't help but tell how nervous the Jewish passengers were. According to a passenger that I heard speaking to another passenger, he had an EL AL flight to New York that was cancelled and thus was rebook onto TWA via Athens and Rome.

"All right, we might as well get ready now," said Uli, rising to her feet. Being a German citizen, Uli had always felt sympathetic for the Jewish people, having felt ashamed for all those horrible deeds her people had done in the Holocaust.

Meanwhile, Daphne had been in the Duty Free and after getting some personal mementos, made her way back to where we were sitting.

"Got what you need?" I asked her.

"I got what I need," she replied, taking out what appeared to be a small doll. "I got this for Velma. I know she liked dolls as a girl, so I thought it would be nice."

Now, Velma was someone I thought who wasn't a fan of dolls, but after all, you learn something new every day, I guess. Back on the Boeing 727, the man who I thought was suspicious was aboard the jet supposedly checking for a water leak in the bathroom. Taking out his supposed toolbox, he pulled up the tool dish and pulled out three guns and a hand grenade, hiding them inside a container that was used for napkins and toilet paper.

Meanwhile, the flight crew arrived on the jet and got themselves prepared for the short flight. After putting her things away, Uli walked up the aisles making sure that the company headcovers were presented on the seats. She walked up towards the bathroom and the man came out with the weapons for the hijackers secured underneath the napkins.

"What's the problem?" asked Uli as the man came out.

"There's no problem, miss," he replied, hiding the act he had just done. "We thought you had a water leak."

"Can we start boarding now?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, heading towards the rear exit. "You'd better check that with your flight engineer. Have a nice flight."

So, the man got off and set the chain of events that would change our lives forever…


	3. Taking Off From Athens

Chapter 3

"Taking off from Athens"

By the time that the man had placed the weapons in the bathroom, it was time for us to board the aircraft for the short hop to Rome and then connecting to the transatlantic leg to New York. As we boarded, another man dressed in a business suit came running up to the gate and approached the gate agents with his ticket. However, they had some news for him that he didn't want to hear.

"I'm sorry sir," said the female gate agent, handing him back his ticket. "This flight is full. Please check the ticket counter for the next available flight."

"No, no, I must be on this flight," protested the man talking in an Arabic accent, trying to get them to listen.

"I'm sorry sir," repeated the agent. "You have a standby ticket."

"We're full sir, please move aside," said a male gate agent, politely pushing him away. Daphne and I walked past him as he tried desperately to get onto the flight.

Looking at the two other well-dressed men a couple of people behind us, both Daphne and I could tell that these people were up to no good, although neither one of us or any of our fellow passengers at the time knew about that.

"You see, there, maybe in your book, you have some space," suggested the man, pointing down at the book that had a list of the passengers who were on the plane.

"Sir, you can't go on board this flight," stated the male gate agent. But, the Arab man was not going to listen.

"You can, you can," cried the man, starting to reach his breaking point. "You can see if there is a place for me."

Amidst all of the nonsensical babbling, all of us were amazed at how calm the agents were. I had seen people working in retail that lost their composure.

"Move aside, sir," said the male gate agent again. "We have no room for you."

"No, you move aside!" snapped the man, now starting to go into a rant. "They told me they had a place for me! They told me that they had a place for me!"

Believing the man was now a threat, the female gate agent grabbed a radio and alerted for someone to come help.

"Send security immediately," she ordered as two nearby security agents came forward and grabbed the man, who was now thrashing wildly.

"Calm down, sir," said the male gate agent, walking over to the restrained man. "Show me your ticket."

"There, there," replied the man, calming down slightly. "You'll see."

Of course, the man was denied boarding after they looked down at the ticket and he once again flew into a rage as the guards dragged him away. Soon, we walked onto the tarmac and onto the Boeing 727. We were greeted by Uli Derickson who directed us to our first class seats in the second row of the aircraft.

"Freddie, what was up with that guy?" remarked Daphne as she took some lipstick out of her purse. "The one who was causing a ruckus?"

"Something tells me that he doesn't know what standby means," I replied. "Don't worry, he'll be put on another flight to Rome."

Just then, we saw the two well-dressed men walk past us towards the back of coach class with looks of suspicion on their faces. Something inside of me was telling me that these men were planning on not going to Rome. They had something up their sleeves and I wanted to find out what it was. However, I didn't want to cause any trouble to the point of arousing suspicion of the flight crew. Once everyone was boarded, we heard an announcement coming from the cockpit.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," said John on the intercom. "This is your captain speaking. My name is John Testrake and on behalf of Trans World Airlines, I would like to welcome you aboard a continuation of Flight 847 to Rome and onward to London. Our flight time to Rome will be 55 minutes and we will be at a cruising altitude of 34,000 feet. The weather in Rome is the same weather as here in Athens, partly cloudy skies and light winds with temperatures in the mid 70's. At this time, I would like you to direct your attention to the flight attendants for an important safety demonstration."

So we watched as Uli and the flight attendants performed their safety demonstration. However, I could not help but feel a sense of worry about those two men in the very back of the plane. Still, I had my suspicions about it and sure did Daphne as well.

Just after 10:00am in the morning, TWA Flight 847 took off from Athens heading northwest towards Rome with 145 passengers and 8 crew members on board hailing from six countries mostly from the United States, but also from the United Kingdom, Greece, Italy and Germany along with three from Australia who were living in the United States.

"Can I get you something to drink?" asked Uli as she came up to a Roman Catholic Priest and two sisters.

"Could I have a glass of water, please?" replied the elder sister, to which Uli replied warmly with a smile.

"She's afraid of flying," said the younger sister, patting down on her equal's hand.

"The sister wants to get to heaven, she doesn't want to fly to get there," chuckled the priest as Uli got up to get the sister some water.

At that moment, a man wearing a yellow jacket and cowboy hat sitting across from them turned over and spoke to the religious figures with a warm smile.

"Excuse me, you are from Chicago, no?" he asked in a foreign accent.

"Yes," replied the younger sister, smiling. "Yes, we are how did you know?"

"I am from Chicago myself," he said. "I must have seen you somewhere in Chicago."

"You don't sound like a Chicagoan," said the older sister, taking note of the man's accent.

"Actually, I've only been in Chicago for four years," said the man. "I'm David Rosorfsky from the north side."

The younger sister then asked if David was Polish, but he replied that he was Russian. At the time, giving our country's hatred towards Russia, it was nice to hear that there was someone who was nice and didn't care about what his country was doing.

"Do you the Orthodox church by Lincoln Park?" he asked. "Father Doschivsky? I go to hear his sermon every Sunday."

"Are you going back home?" asked the priest.

"My first vacation since Russia," replied David.

"You enjoyed yourself?" asked the priest again.

"I feel like I am reborn," smiled David. "America has been good to us."

Of course, at that moment, the man dressed a white suit got to his feet and walked towards the bathroom where the smuggled weapons were and took them out of their covered slots. He then placed a napkin over his sweaty face and walked back to his seat, handing a gun and a grenade to his partner in the brown suit.

What happened next would start the nightmare…


	4. This is a Hijack!

Chapter 4

"This is a Hijack!"

With their weapons in hand, the Arab men nodded to each other and rose to their feet, walking down the aisles with their weapons raised in the air.

"This is a hijack!" cried the white suit man. "Heads down!"

Almost immediately, the passengers in coach gasped and shouted as the two men pointed their guns at them, ordering the passengers to lower their heads. We heard the commotion and almost immediately, the suspicions that Daphne and I had were realized.

"What are you doing?" cried Hazel as the white suit man pushed her away.

"Your heads down!" shouted the white suit man as Elizabeth came running up the aisle determined to get them to stop.

"What are you doing? What are you doing?" she shouted as the white suit man hit her with the butt of his pistol and knocked her out into a row of passengers.

"Heads down, everybody! Put your heads down!" shouted the hijackers. "This is a hijack! This is a hand grenade, we will blow up the plane if you do not do as we say!"

"Put your hands on your head!" shouted the brown suit hijacker as they stormed into the first class cabin, pushing Uli into a row of first class passengers. I jumped up and tried to wrestle the hijackers, but they pushed me back and onto Daphne who screamed when I came down on her.

Once he was freed, the white suit hijacker pointed his gun at all of us in first class in an effort to keep us away from him.

"We are prepared to die," he cried, pointing the gun at all of us. "Do not provoke me!"

"You want to die, you die someplace else!" shouted a passenger and the hijacked pointed his gun at her, causing the husband to step in to stop him.

"Mister, don't, don't, don't, don't, don't," he said, stopping him from making anything stupid. The hijacker then turned his attention towards Uli and motioned for her to come up to the cockpit.

"Cockpit, come," he said in a thick Arab accent.

"We'll cooperate, man," she said, trying to stay calm for us. "We'll cooperate, man. We'll do anything you want."

He then dragged her over to the cockpit door and with the pistol at her chin and the grenade in his hand, he ordered her to open the door. Nervously, she knocked on the door trying to get the attention of Ben, the flight engineer.

"Ben, it's me," she said nervously. "Open."

When there came no response, Uli knocked on the door again as the white suit man started to get impatient.

"Open, Ben," cried Uli.

"Is everything okay?" asked John, who was completely oblivious to what was going on.

"Everything is fine, open up please," begged Uli and still there was no response from the crew. The white suit man then pushed Uli way and with the grenade in his hand, he banged on the cockpit door, determined to get inside.

"OPEN THIS DOOR OR I WILL BLOW THE PLANE!" he shouted and put the pin of the grenade to his mouth and it was at this point that Uli screamed at the top of her lungs.

"BEN, YOU HAVE TO OPEN!"

So, Ben opened the door and banged on the hijacker's hand, knocking the pin of the grenade to the floor as everyone stood in silence, fearing that the plane was now going to blow up.

"Pick it up," said the hijacker to Uli, quietly. With the gun still drawn, Uli picked up the pin and placed it in the hijacker's mouth, between his teeth.

At this moment, the hijacker stormed into the cockpit and stared down at the pilots, but not before pistol whipping Ben into sitting back down at his seat when he didn't move quicker enough.

"I am taking over this airplane," he ordered. "You will cooperate."

Knowing that this was the real thing, John and his first officer, Phil, looked back at the hijacker with submissive eyes.

"We'll take you anywhere you want to go, buddy," said John, trying to stay calm for the safety of his passengers and crew. "Now, why don't you put that pin back into that hand grenade?"

"Put it," he said and once he had recovered from being pistol whipped, Ben pulled the pin out of the hijacker's mouth and carefully placed it back in the slot of the grenade.

"Easy, Ben," said John, quietly as he carefully stuck the pin back in the grenade, thus preventing it from exploding.

"I am prepared to die," said the hijacker. "I am Abdul Mugniyah. I am a commander in the Hezbollah Special Security Apparatus. You will take orders from me and from no one but me, or I will blow this airplane. Do you hear me?"

Knowing that there was no turning back now, John and his crew willfully submitted to the demands of the hijackers.

"Loud and clear," he said quietly.

"Now, you fly to Beirut," ordered Abdul.

"Where?" asked John.

"Beirut, fly to Beirut," repeated Abdul, clearly.

Heeding his new commander's orders, John carefully changed course but not before turning the aircraft's code to 7500, the code for a hijacking.

"What are you doing?" asked Abdul nervously. "Take your hand away."

"It's normal operating procedure," explained John as the air traffic control center in Athens got the alert about the situation and the commander immediately contacted the American Embassy. "Now Phil, contact Athens departure control…"

"No!" interrupted Abdul, flinging his gun at Phil, getting him to stop and not do anything. "You will fly by map. I know flying, you will fly by map."

"I don't think we have enough fuel, Captain," said Ben, looking at the load of fuel that they have.

"Then we will fly until your fuel runs out, Captain," replied Abdul, looking at John with a cold look on his face. "That is all."

So, being like an obedient servant, John and his crew had no other choice but to turn the plane away from its planned route to Rome and was now heading for the largest city in the Lebanon, although Daphne and I thought that we were heading for Israel, since this was most likely a matter concerning them.

Meanwhile, the news of the hijacking had spread to the US Embassy in Athens and the ambassador, Robert V. Keeley, who in turn, contacted the White House to warn us of our situation.

At that moment, the news of the hijacking would soon reach Shaggy and Velma back in Coolsville…


	5. Learning the News

Chapter 5

"Learning the News"

The news of our plane's hijacking was quick and swift as quickly as when we were hijacked. Almost immediately, news of the hijacking reach Leonardo Da Vinci Airport in Rome where we were supposed to go as well as John F. Kennedy Airport in New York, where a majority of the passengers were supposed to go after connecting in Rome. Many families were huddled together and began to pray to God for the safe return of us. Unfortunately, neither Velma nor Shaggy were aware of the fact that were on the plane. As far as they were concerned, they still believed we were on Flight 881, the direct flight that was cancelled.

"Hey, Shaggy," asked Velma as they drove to Hancock Airport. "Have you heard from Fred and Daphne at all?"

"No, Velma," replied Shaggy, who was playing cards with Scooby Doo in the back of the Mystery Machine. "I haven't heard from them all day, didn't you Scoob?"

"Rut Ro," replied Scooby who then placed a card down on the ground. "Ro Rish."

Just then, the radio from the Mystery Machine began to pick up news of an aircraft hijacking out of Athens.

"We have just received word of an aircraft hijacking off the coast of Greece," said the news anchor on the radio. "Word arrived from the US Embassy in Athens that Trans World Airlines Flight 847 was reportedly hijacked on a flight from Athens to Rome. We believe that 153 passengers and crew are on board."

"Oh, it's probably just another hijacking," sighed Shaggy, who would much rather be focused on playing his game of cards with Scooby. "Just ignore it Scoob and play your hand. You are going to lose anyway, man."

So Scooby played his hand and continued the game with his friend. However, Velma had a keen ear listening in on the situation. As far as she was concerned, Velma took a keen interest in the situation in the Middle East since the Entebbe hijacking.

"We have just received word that among the passengers on board are Syracuse University students, Daphne Blake and Fred Jones," said the announcer. "Syracuse University officials report that the two students were in Greece filming a documentary for a school project to debut this fall."

This caused Velma, Shaggy and Scooby to drop what they were doing and attempt to listen to what the radio had to say.

"What?" cried Velma. "I thought they would be on the other flight."

"Like, they aren't now," remarked Shaggy. "What are we going to do?"

The two humans and pet dog began pacing around for any more news on our situation. All the news spoke of was that we were heading to an unknown destination in the Middle East.

Meanwhile, our plane continued to fly along the Mediterranean towards the Middle East with the gun at the back of Captain Testrake's head.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said Abdul, speaking into the intercom. "This is your new captain speaking, my name is Abdul Mugniyah. We are from the Hezbollah Special Security Apparatus organization. We have declared war against the American and Israeli imperialists, Zionists, terrorists and all other anti-social atrocities. Your plane is now heading to Beirut, Lebanon. For your safety, I suggest that you listen carefully and follow all instructions."

Daphne and I looked at each other with nervous looks on our faces as the brown suited terrorist walked up and down the aisle, his gun brandishing in his hands.

"All right, without talking," he ordered. "Lift up your heads."

Being obedient, we were doing as we were told and lifted our heads up and took our hands off of our heads.

"Now then," he continued, waving his gun in the air. "All men sit by the windows and all women and children sit in the aisles. Do it now and quickly, just do it, fast and quiet!"

At that moment, Abdul came out of the cockpit and approached Uli, who was standing in the first class galley. The German stewardess looked at the man with a look of worry in her eyes and Abdul looked back at her for a second. I couldn't see why they were looking at each other with worry, but then Abdul gave her an order to herd us all to the back of economy class.

"All first class passengers are to move to coach at once," he said and waving his gun, we followed the rest of the first class passengers to the back of the plane. "Leave all your valuables behind."

With the first class section cleared, we were forced to sit on the laps of other passengers which made it feel very uncomfortable. Almost immediately, I could see that the brown suited terrorist was already looking very uncomfortable. Among us were a pregnant woman and a six year old girl and they were both very scared, much like the rest of us.

"What is wrong with him?" Daphne whispered to me, trying to not be heard by the terrorists. "He looks scared."

"Who?" I whispered back.

"The guy in the brown suit," she replied, keeping her voice low. "He's looking uncomfortable."

Just then, Abdul and the other terrorist began walking down the aisles again, but this time ordering passengers to shut the window shades, so they could hide their involvements. Doing as we were told, we shut the windows on our cramped spaces and the terrorists then went into the first class cabin to shut the windows there when the brown suit terrorist noticed something on the ground.

"Abdul!" he called in Arabic. "Look at this."

"What is it, Mustafa?" asked Abdul in Arabic, walking over towards his partner. The brown suited terrorist handed Abdul a ring, but it wasn't just any ring. The ring had Hebrew language on it, which could only clarify that in their minds, there were Israelis on board.

"There are Israelis here," replied Mustafa in Arabic and knowing that needed to be sorted out, Abdul looked over to Uli, who was still hiding in the first class galley.

"Come here," called Abdul and Uli came over nervously to him. "I want you to help me find the Israelis on board."

"I don't know who the Israelis are," she said, nervously. Daphne and I could tell that the purser was trying to protect her passengers from these monsters.

However, the terrorists were not buying it. They could tell that Uli was trying to hide the Israeli passengers from them.

"They came off the El Al flight in Athens and I will find them," said Abdul. "Collect all passports."

"Why?" asked Uli.

"Do it! At once!" ordered Abdul and realizing that she had no other choice, Uli grabbed a loudspeaker and addressed us.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," she said. "Please take out your passports and all other documentation and hold them over your heads."

A hushed chorus of shocks and gasps came out among us after hearing these set of orders. Uli sighed heavily as we took out our passports and other documentation, holding them over our heads. It took a few minutes for Daphne to take our passports out of her purse and hand them to Uli who came up and down the aisle, taking the passports out of our hands.

Then, she came to the row of seats where the American divers from the Navy were seated…


	6. Memories of the Holocaust

Chapter 6

"Memories of the Holocaust"

As the collection of passports continued, Uli with Mustafa following her came up to the row of seats where the three navy divers were seated.

"Passports, come on, where are your passports?" barked Mustafa, pointing his gun at the men.

All the men did at that moment was hand Uli a set of cards that were nothing like our passports.

"What is this?" asked Mustafa, looking at the cards.

"These are Navy identification cards," said the red shirted navy diver. "We're with the American Navy."

However, Mustafa saw otherwise through the cards and thought that the divers were something else.

"Marines," he hissed, his hand shaking on the gun that he carried.

"No, navy, we're divers with the American Navy," protested the red shirted navy diver.

"Marines, American Marines," he hissed, putting the cards on the floor. "American Marines killed many of my friends when they bombed Beirut."

Meanwhile, the priest that was in the middle of the plane tried to defend the men that sat not far from him.

"America never bombed Beirut," the priest protested.

"American planes from your ships bombed our camps!" he cried, screaming at the men like a maniac. "American Marines killed my family!

"Don't you understand?" cried the Priest. "We never bombed Beirut!"

This made Mustafa snap and curse some vulgar words as he wrapped his arms around the priest. Seeing that his partner was going too far, Abdul ran over and pulled Mustafa away as well as Uli, who pulled him by the scruff of his shirt.

"Enough! Enough!" shouted Abdul in Arabic, pulling Mustafa off of the Priest. "What is wrong with you?"

"These men," panted Mustafa in Arabic, waving his gun at the three divers. "They are American Marines, look."

"Ah yes," replied Abdul, looking at the navy divers with a small smile. "Three American heroes. From now on, you travel only first class, gentlemen."

So, Abdul and Mustafa led the three navy divers into first class and all we could do is watch as the sounds of cloth ripping were heard throughout the coach class cabin. For a while, we could only hear nothing and I saw Daphne reach into her suit jacket and pull out a set of rosary beads.

"Daph, they'll hear you," I whispered, thinking that Daphne's time for prayer was out of the question.

"I don't care, Freddie," she whimpered. "We need God, I need God to be on our side right now."

I could hear Daphne say several prayers including the "Hail Mary" and the "Lord's Prayer" over and over again. Just then, we could hear a loud scream coming from the first class cabin.

"I won't do it!" cried Uli and a loud smack was heard causing myself and Daphne to flinch. Several more loud noises were heard before silence fell and we all waited nervously for the next noise to be heard.

A few moments later, Abdul opened the curtain to first class and spoke into the loudspeaker with Uli standing next to him with a huge red mark on the side of her neck. We also looked to see the three navy divers with their wrists and necks tied up in black bands.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said Abdul, quietly. "When your name is called, please come up to the first class cabin without hesitation."

At that moment, Uli stepped up and held out a passport reading the name of the first individual.

"Benjamin Kaplan, come forward please," she said and we looked back to see one of the two men we saw in Athens step up with a determined look on his face. The man's wife was already struggling to hold back tears as he stepped out into the aisle.

"Where are you going?" cried the man's wife. "They can't do this, Ben! They can't! We can't live through this again!"

But, Benjamin Kaplan was going to do what he was told to do and turned to face his sobbing wife.

"We survived once," he told her. "We can do it again."

"No, Ben, come back!" she screamed before turning to the passengers. "What's wrong with you? We've got to do something! There is only two of them and there is so many of us!"

Mustafa hissed at her to sit down and Benjamin walked into the first class cabin and faced down at Abdul. Uli watched as memories of her country's atrocities were playing out before her very eyes.

"I'm Benjamin Kaplan," he said, looking at Abdul like he was about to accept his fate. "What can I do for you?"

"Sit down," he said and turned back towards Uli. "Next."

"Barry Goldman," she read. "Barry Goldman, come forward please."

At that moment, the other man that I had seen at Athens rose to his feet as his wife clutched him tightly, begging him not to go.

"Please, don't take him," she cried, clutching him tightly. "He's a sick man, he has a heart condition."

"Sylvia, I'm going," he replied, as he walked up towards the first class cabin. After mouthing that they loved each other, Barry walked through the first class cabin and sat down next to Benjamin Kaplan.

"Robert Levine," she said, reading off another passport. "Robert Levine, come forward please."

Just then, the sounds of the six year old girl were heard, crying and begging the terrorist to not let him go up to first class. We looked back at the situation unfolding behind us and we could see Mustafa starting to look like he was buckling under the pressure of emotion. When he told her that he had to go, the girl handed him her doll that her mother bought for her at the Duty Free in Athens.

"Freddie, what can we do?" whispered Daphne.

"I don't know, Daph," I whispered as I watched Mustafa push Robert forward down the aisle.

However, before he joined the rest of the selected individuals, he had a stern warning for Mustafa.

"You just keep your hands off of my daughter," he snarled and walked up to first class, where he was hit with the butt of Abdul's gun for taking so long to get up to the first class cabin.

"David Rosorfsky," said Uli, much to the Russian's shock. "David Rosorfsky, come forward please."

The Russian man was shocked at what was being said. He knew that he had nothing to do with the Israeli's, but the terrorists saw otherwise.

"You're making a mistake," he cried, getting up into the aisle. "I don't have anything to do with the Israeli's. I'm not even Israeli."

"Mr. Rosorfsky," said Mustafa, icily, pointing his gun at the Russian. "You move or I shoot you right now."

"But, you are making a mistake," he cried. "I'm not Jewish, I'm Christian Orthodox! Father, please, tell him! Tell him you know me from Chicago…"

"Move!" shouted Mustafa and pushed the protesting Russian forward towards first class.

"Wait!" cried the younger nun, rising to her feet. "He's telling the truth! Listen to me!"

"Shut up!" shouted Mustafa. "We know what we are doing!"

Just then, we saw Rosorfsky come forward and try to explain his actions to Abdul, who only responded by placing the barrel of his gun at Rosorfsky's chin, silencing him.

"Sit down," he said. "On the floor!"

Back in the cabin, we continued to witness the horror in the middle of the plane when all of a sudden, the priest got up and stormed towards the first class cabin.

"What's he doing, Freddie?" cried Daphne, who was like the rest of us: stunned and surprised by what we were seeing.

"I don't know," I replied, amazed at what I was seeing.

The priest came forward into the first class cabin and approached Abdul and the captives, much to the hijacker's shock and bewilderment.

"What you doing here?" asked Abdul.

"You called for me," said the Priest, standing in front of Abdul.

"What is your name?" asked Abdul.

"William O'Malley," replied the Priest, firmly.

"I did not call you," said Abdul.

"You called for all the Jews," he replied, defiantly. "I'm Jewish just like Jesus Christ."

He then looked down at the singled out Israelis and pointed to them in front of Abdul to prove his point. This was a sacrifice that Father O'Malley was willing to make. He knew that if Jesus had to make a sacrifice then so did he.

"You take one of us, you got to take us all," he said and resigned to his request, Abdul motioned for him to sit down across from the Jews and the Navy Divers.

By this time, TWA Flight 847 was nearing Beirut…


	7. Landing in Beirut

Chapter 7

"Landing in Beirut"

Immediately after the selections had taken place, we had started our decent into Beirut. By now, it had been the longest hour since we had taken off from Athens. What should have been a short flight to Rome followed by a transatlantic flight to New York had turned into a unpredictable ordeal that would result in the death of us all if something were to go wrong. With the butt of a gun at his head, Captain Testrake and his flight crew began the treacherous decent into a war zone.

"Beirut tower, Trans World Airlines Flight 847 under command of Captain Abdul Mugniyah of the Hezbollah…" began John, forgetting what organization that Abdul and Mustafa had belonged to.

"…Super Security Apparatus," finished Abdul.

"Super Security Apparatus," continued John. "Requesting landing instructions."

However, the Beirut air traffic control said otherwise, determined to keep us from landing on the runway.

"Trans World Airlines," explained the controller. "I'm sorry to unable to give you landing instructions. The airport is closed today to all international flights by order of the Lebanese government."

"Well, you heard the man," said John, looking back to Abdul. "Now, what do you want to do?"

"Land," said Abdul, determined to land at Beirut, flinging his gun at the pilots. John looked back towards the runway and saw the hoard of ground traffic on the airport's main runway.

"Damn," whispered John, as he raised the aircraft up in an aborted landing. There wasn't any way possible that the aircraft could land in these conditions. It was much too risky for the plane to land.

"Beirut," shouted John into the radio. "You must clear that runway at once or we'll all die!"

"You are facing disaster if you try to land," replied the controller and the Boeing 727 rose back up into the air and restarted its circle around the airport.

At that moment, the minister of defense for Lebanon came running up into the tower and ordered the controller to give him the radio to speak to John.

"Captain, captain, this is the minister of defense speaking," he said. "You cannot land in our country, we've had enough trouble without you people."

"We have 153 men, women and children aboard this aircraft," retorted John, trying to keep himself from growing desperate. "Now, the hijacker has threatened to blow us up and if he does, it would be your responsibility. Now, do you want that, Mr. Minister? Do we now have your permission land?"

"My answer is defienetly not," cried the minister, throwing the radio back to the controller.

Knowing that the time for talk was over, Abdul tried his next tactic and pulled the radio to the pin of his grenade.

"Tell the tower that I will blow this plane if they don't let us land," cried Abdul, who was not afraid to die. Fearing the worst, John radioed the tower again and he uttered the famous words that is still reverberating to this day.

"He has pulled a hand grenade and he is ready to blow up the aircraft if he has to," begged John. "I repeat, we must land in Beirut, we must land in Beirut. No alternatives."

Feeling that he had no other choice, the minister ordered the tower to clear the runway for landing. Reducing power in the engines, John and the pilots landed the plane on the runway, the only active aircraft at the whole airport.

"Did we land?" asked Daphne, still clutching her rosaries. "It feels like we did."

"You might as well see for yourself," I said and Daphne pulled up the window shades to see army tanks and other military vehicles surrounding the airport. Daphne let out a large gasp upon seeing what was coming towards us at that moment.

I could never forget that gasp that came from her mouth and I will never forget the sounds of the doors of the emergency exits opening to reveal a hoard of masked men coming aboard the aircraft armed with fully loaded guns.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said Abdul, stepping out of the cockpit and grabbing the loudspeaker. "Only the people in the very back of the plane are to be released at this time. We will need fuel so we need to trade for it. As you leave, we ask you to have your valuables, your money and your jewelry out in your hands so that we may collect them as you leave the aircraft."

So, the hijackers released all the passengers at the back of the plane, in the rear five rows of the aircraft. It took several minutes for them to be released and in all, 19 of our fellow passengers were released to completely go their way.

"What's going on?' I thought to myself. "Why are they releasing passengers?"

However, I didn't have time to think as those that were selected were brought out of the first class cabin, including Father O'Malley, who had sacrificed himself to be with the selected Jews.

"Father, God be with you," I heard the youngest nun say to him and once the Jews were brought off the plane, two of the three navy divers were also led, all except the one in the red shirt.

"You stay," said Abdul, quietly as Mustafa led the navy diver back into first class. Closing the doors of the aircraft, the terrorists stayed aboard while the passengers who weren't released were told to place their hands on their heads again, including us.

"All right," said Abdul, stepping back into the cockpit. "Radio for fuel, we leave for Algiers immediately."

Fearing the worst if they didn't comply, John radioed the tower asking for fuel. However, the tower refused and Abdul expected this. Motioning over to Mustafa, the bearded terrorist grabbed the arm rest of a seat and placed it in front of the navy diver that was kept from leaving the aircraft. With a thunderous swing, Mustafa whacked the arm rest across the man's face and continued to do so for a good five minutes.

"You hear that?" cried Abdul, speaking in Arabic into the radio. "We will keep doing this until you give us what we want."

"No," shouted the defense minister in the radio. "You will stay here by order of the government."

John then snatched the radio from Abdul's grip and began screaming into it like a desperate idiot.

"They are beating a passenger, they are beating a passenger," shouted John into the radio. "They are beating him, we want the fuel now. Immediately!"

And yet, as they said with Abdul, the minister denied the request and the more they delayed, the more the abuse that the navy diver had taken. I noticed that Daphne was starting to cry and become scared. To be honest, I was starting to become scared too. I wanted to intervene, but I couldn't. It was at this point, that Uli stepped in and stopped Mustafa from hitting him further.

"Enough!" she cried, stopping Mustafa's rampage. "I have a way we can get fuel. Let me handle this, if you would just stop hurting him."

Mustafa lowered the arm rest and allowed Uli to step into the cockpit and grabbed the radio from John. She spoke to the Lebanese official in German and told him that he would be associated with a horrible act forever if he didn't comply. Then, she pulled out a Shell oil credit card and ordered five thousand dollars' worth of fuel for the journey to Algiers.

"I don't understand," cried Daphne. "He's hurt, we should do something!"

"What do you think we can do, Daph?" I said, turning back to her sharply. "These people are holding guns and there is nothing we can do about it."

Little did I know that Daphne was planning something, something that would come to define her for who she was…


	8. Death of a Navy Diver

Chapter 8

"Death of a Navy Diver"

So we flew to Algiers that afternoon and landed just before sunset as it was announced that 20 more passengers would be released. During the flight, a majority of the men on board came up and beat the navy diver senselessly, breaking every bone in his body. Any of us couldn't bear to sleep that night and instead spent the night praying as our captors slept. Early the next morning, June 15, 1985, we touched back down in Beirut and just sat at another remote section of the airport. Many of the passengers who had been up all night, had fallen asleep.

"He's nearly dead," whispered Uli to Abdul as she tried to console. "Please, let him go."

"No, I'm sorry, Uli, but they need to listen," replied Abdul, firm but fair. "We need a sacrifice and he is the one."

Remorsefully, Uli rose to her feet and backed away from the beaten and bloodied navy diver. By now, John and his flight had been in the cockpit for no more than 24 hours since we left Athens. They were tired and weak, but they had to continue on for the sake of their passengers.

"We need fuel, captain," said Abdul, opening the door of the cockpit. "I'm sorry, but we have no choice."

John wanted to protest the inevitable death of the navy diver, but he had no choice. Looking back to the terrorists, two more masked men approached the navy diver and after beating him up, lifting him to his feet and dragged him towards the door where we entered in Athens. Abdul grabbed the navy diver by the scruff of his shirt and stuck his gun into the diver's neck, firing a bullet into it and dumping his body on the tarmac. Abdul then fired another shot at the rotting corpse of the navy diver to make sure he was dead.

"I can't take this anymore!" cried Daphne rising to her feet and storming up to the terrorists.

"Daphne, no!" I shouted, only to be met with the barrel of a terrorist's gun. Uli begged for Daphne to return to her seat, but she refused, determined to see an innocent man be put to death.

"What are you doing here?" asked Abdul, shocked at seeing Daphne's bravery. "Go back to your seat."

"No, I won't!" cried Daphne, trying hold back tears not of sadness, but of anger. "Don't you think you have done enough?"

I wanted to tell Daphne to stop, but she was not going to listen to me. She had been through enough and was not going to back down now.

"Why do you ask us that?" remarked Abdul. "You people have killed many of our brothers and now its time we listen to us."

"Listen to yourself!" snapped Daphne, talking to Abdul like a stern mother. "You kill because you are afraid to use diplomatic measures! Where I come from, we use words, not violence."

"How dare you talk to us like that?" snarled Mustafa, grabbing Daphne by the scruff of her green tank top and throwing against a window, pointing a gun at her face. "Many of us have lost friends and families thanks to the Americans and Israelis. Now, we will take something from you just as you took something from us!"

Daphne struggled to succumb to the fear that her captors had imposed on her. But, she was determined to not let anyone else suffer the same way as the navy diver who was now on the tarmac…dead.

"If you kill another person," stuttered Daphne, the barrel of the gun rubbing against the delicate skin of her throat. "Then what would you be telling your families, Mustafa? Tell me that. Why don't you attack me instead?"

Mustafa's eyes opened wide upon hearing those words as did Abdul's. Both men were stunned to hear that a woman was willing to put herself before the rest of her passengers. Almost immediately, Abdul walked up to the curtains and pushed Uli out of the first class cabin while he and Mustafa were left alone with Daphne. All I could do was to catch a glimpse of Daphne as the curtains swiftly closed before my eyes.

"You are taking a brave risk, young woman," said Abdul, pointing the gun at Daphne's chest. "Are you aware that you may soon die?"

"I am," replied Daphne. "Do what you want with me, but I will not let you hurt another passenger in the name of God."

At that moment, Mustafa snatched Daphne's purse out of her hands and dumped everything out of it: money, makeup, jewelry, everything that was of value to her was taken up by the terrorists. Once her purse was emptied, Mustafa picked it up and threw back through the curtains and into the aisle.

"Now then, take off your clothes," ordered Abdul, flinging the gun at Daphne, who was shocked to hear this. "Starting with your shoes."

Doing as she was told, Daphne stepped out of her purple shoes and kicked them out of the first class cabin. She was shocked at how she was being treated, but knew that she had to comply with whatever demands the terrorist's say of her. It was her only way of protecting her fellow passengers.

"Remove the stockings," said Abdul, pointing down at Daphne's tan stockings. Raising each of her legs, Daphne removed her stockings and stuck them out into the aisle. I knew that the terrorists were trying to strip Daphne of her dignity by making her undress in front of them.

"Remove your jacket," ordered Abdul and Daphne slid off her purple jacket, throwing it into the aisle with the rest of her discarded clothes.

"Remove your skirt," continued Abdul and Daphne close her eyes and slowly unzipped the back of her purple skirt, carefully sliding it down to reveal her white cotton panties. Once it slid down to her ankles, Daphne kicked the skirt through the curtain.

"Remove your shirt," finished Abdul and Daphne slowly slid off her green tank top, revealing her white bra and tossing the shirt through the curtain.

Daphne was expecting to hear the men tell her to remove her underwear, but to her surprise, they didn't.

"Sit down, young lady," said Abdul and Daphne did as she was told and sat down. Her sweat running down her body like a sieve. Daphne could only think of what Jesus was going through during his passion and now, it seemed like she was going through her own passion.

Stepping into the cockpit, Abdul grabbed the radio and knowing that the tower was not going to listen anymore, placed the radio to where Mustafa had grabbed the same arm rest that he used to kill the navy diver.

At that moment, the terrorist swung the arm rest at Daphne, hitting her across the face and breaking her nose and several of her teeth.

"I must be strong, I must be brave," thought Daphne as the beatings continued to be inflicted upon her. All I could do was sit in my seat and listen to my girlfriend be abused in this manner.

Already, I could see traces of blood splatter on her discarded clothes. After a few minutes, however, the beating stopped and the curtain was flung open to reveal Daphne already severely beaten, blood flowing from her nose and head, soaking the white undergarments that covered her private areas.

"This is incredible," thought Mustafa as he saw the resilience Daphne was possessing. "She is not like the marine killer at all."

Still, they had a duty to fulfill and as we took off for Algiers again, they were going to do whatever it took to complete their goal that they had not been able to tell us about.

We would find all that out when we got back to Algiers…


	9. Breaking Through

Chapter 9

"Breaking Through"

As we took off from Beirut and headed back to Algiers, we could still hear the loud beatings coming from the first class cabin. For a while, I thought I was going to witness Daphne being killed by these savages. It didn't matter if this was a sacrifice anymore, this was potiential murder that was being displayed before my eyes. I, Fred Jones, was sitting back and listening to my love being beaten senselessly and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Is this what you want?" Daphne groaned as blood spewed from her nose while looking up at Mustafa. "To beat people in a savage manner just because they are American?"

"American Marines killed my family and friends when they bombed Beirut," protested Mustafa, lowering the arm rest used to hit Daphne. "You don't care about what happens to us when we are dead!"

Mustafa then whacked Daphne in the chest, breaking several more ribs as she struggled to sustain the pain that was being inflicted upon her.

"I do care about you," moaned Daphne. "But you don't care about yourself. I know you were looking uncomfortable when that father left his daughter. You didn't want to separate them, but you had to. Why?"

At that moment, Abdul came out of the cockpit and approached the bloodied Daphne, his gun lowered and then dropped onto a first class seat.

"We had to separate them," said Abdul. "We are not fighting you, we are fighting your government. But, we need to bargain for the release of our brothers in jails by our enemies. I wasn't born to kill and neither was Mustafa."

Several more trails of blood came down Daphne's face as her white bra and white panties were now soaked in blood suffered from the beatings.

"Why didn't you tell that to that young man you killed?" asked Daphne, her face wincing in pain. "What did he ever do to you?"

"Much," growled Mustafa. "My wife and young daughter were killed by American Marines. They took my family away from me. That girl and her mother were innocent in this war that we are fighting."

At that moment, Mustafa threw the arm rest into the first class seat and sat back down, his hands rummaging through his hair roughly. Tears were also beginning to form in his eyes and for the first time, we could hear emotion coming from the hijackers.

"I wanted to watch my children grow up and be successful," cried Mustafa. "When my wife was killed, we were going to have another child, a son to call my own. The American Marines, they are assassins, the dealers in death, we are the avengers."

At this point, Daphne was already starting to grow weaker from the loss of blood and Abdul decided at that moment that Daphne was not going to be killed, sacrificed for their cause.

"Do you see now?" groaned Daphne, struggling to stay concisious. "These people who are being tortured by you, they weren't the ones who attacked you. You only attack them because we are Americans and nothing more. I am sorry you are struggling, but if you kill another one of us, then what message are you sending to your god and your families? Think about that for a second."

The moans and groans coming from Daphne were starting to affect the masked hijackers that stood in the cabin, listening in on Daphne's speech along with the rest of us.

"For your sake," said Abdul. "We will not kill anyone else. We will release you and all the female passengers as well as all the Greek passengers who will be bringing our accomplice to Algiers."

"What about my boyfriend?" asked Daphne, who was also trying to secure my release as well. "Let him go too, if you want to start making a message to let your loved ones who are waiting for you in paradise."

Although it was against their better judgment, the two hijackers decided that Freddie would be released along with me. A few hours later, we landed back in Algiers under a cover of darkness. Upon landing, Abdul went back into the cockpit and ordered that an ambulance come to take me away. But that was not all that was said.

"Captain Mugniyah," said the American Ambassador up in the tower. "The flight from Athens has landed. Your comrade will be with you momentarily. We ask you to release all the women and children hostages along with the Greek citizens without any delay."

"We will keep our word as promise, Mr. Ambassador," replied Abdul as he placed the radio back down.

John and the other pilots were exhausted and wanted to get off too, but they couldn't. They had a duty to perform and that was fly wherever the hijackers wanted to go. But, at that moment, John came out of the cockpit and approached Daphne, who was being helped onto a stretcher by several paramedics.

"Where will she be taken?" he asked.

"She will be taken to a hospital in Algiers," replied Abdul. "You, your crew and the rest of the male passengers will remain here until our demands are met."

"I'm aware of that," said John, looking back at Abdul, before looking back down to Daphne, who was now struggling to keep her eyes open. "That was a very brave thing you did, Miss Blake."

"Someone had to do it," groaned Daphne as blankets were wrapped around her bloodied body. "I couldn't risk seeing someone else suffer, Captain."

At that moment, Uli came up and grabbed her gear along with the rest of the flight attendants. They were sad to leave their pilots alone, but they had no other choice. Both Abdul and Mustafa were amazed at their bravery as well as Daphne's own. Prior to leaving, Abdul had one final set of words for Daphne and Uli as their accomplice from Athens was brought to the aircraft.

"Daphne, Uli," he said. "You are both brave women."

So, I got up and grabbed Daphne's discarded purple suit off the aisle floor and followed the stretcher as we stepped off the plane and onto the tarmac.

However, as we left, I couldn't help but think of the people we were leaving behind. They would have to continue their ordeal under these men who were humbled by this brave woman known as Daphne Blake.

A little while later, we watched as the Boeing 727 took off from Algiers, supposedly heading back to Beirut or some other Middle Eastern country of unknown importance. But, what was important was recovering from this ordeal we had been through together…


	10. A Hospital in Algiers

Chapter 10

"A Hospital in Algiers"

Following our release from the plane, Daphne and I were taken to a nearby hospital near Algiers airport, where I sat outside the emergency room, waiting for any news on Daphne's condition. I could only think of the people still on the plane: the male passengers and the flight crew as well. There was no doubt in my mind that they were in for an even longer ordeal than any of us. Not to mention the Jewish men and that priest who were taken off of the plane in Beirut. All I could for them was pray along with the health of Daphne.

"Monsieur?" asked a doctor who spoke in a French accent as he walked towards where I was sitting. Knowing that it was news on Daphne, I got up in excitement and worry.

"How is she, doctor?" I asked in worry. "Is she going to be fine?"

"Well, Miss Blake has numerous broken bones in her chest," replied the doctor. "She will need to remain here for a couple of weeks while she recovers. We are also looking for blood donors that match her blood type, since Miss Blake lost a lot of her blood. So, if you know anyone who has the same blood type as her, we would like to contact them at once."

I couldn't think of anyone locally that would be willing to give their blood for Daphne. However, I knew of some people who live in the United States that actually have the same blood type as Daphne.

"There are a few people," I replied, after a long silence. "But they are in the United States, where I am from."

"Then get in contact with them," said the doctor. "We need to transfer blood into Miss Blake within 72 hours, or we are going to lose her."

Hearing those words sent chills up my spine and I hurriedly got over to a telephone to call our friends back in Coolsville. For a while the phone rang continuously and I thought I was not going to get through to anyone. Suddenly, a familiar voice was heard on the other line.

"Hello?" cried a panicked voice. Knowing who the voice is, I started to cry, feeling relieved that I was hearing an old familiar voice on the other line.

"Velma, its Fred," I said, crying slightly. "Daphne and I are in a hospital in Algiers. They let us go."

"You were let go?" gasped Velma, who also started crying on the other line as I heard cheers. "Where are you calling from?"

I took a deep breath in an effort to pull myself together and speak clearly on the other line. A thought ran through my mind, thinking of how I was going to explain to Velma that Daphne had sacrificed herself to the hijackers.

"Listen, Velma," I said, pulling myself together fully. "I need you to help us out. Daphne is in the hospital because she gave herself up to the terrorists."

A loud gasp was heard from Velma followed by the sounds of screams of those reacting to what I had just said.

"Why would she do that?!" I heard a voice say on the other line and I knew that it was the voice of Daphne's mother, Elizabeth. "My poor baby!"

"Tell Mrs. Blake that Daphne is still alive," I said. "But, she lost a lot of blood from the beating she took. I need someone to come over to Algiers and give their blood to Daphne, so she can survive."

A long silence was heard on the other line and after a few moments, Velma came back on the other line with news for me.

"Several of Daphne's sisters have the same blood type as her," said Velma. "They are going to be making flight arrangements at once to come over."

"Thank you so much," I screamed into the phone with excitement. "How can I ever repay them?"

"Its their sister, Fred," laughed Velma. "They aren't going to let their sister suffer any more than she already is."

After saying goodbye and thank you, I hung up the phone and for the first time since we were released from the plane, all I could do was cry my eyes out. All the nerves and pent up feelings I had been keeping in since the hijacking began were being released from my body.

A little while later, I walked into Daphne's hospital room and approached Daphne, who had a fully body cast covering her body. I couldn't help but feel powerless over how Daphne looked in this condition. I wanted to just take her out of the bed and get her on the first flight home, but I couldn't. She needed to recover from her injuries, even though I just wanted to wave a magic wand and instantly heal her.

"Daphne?" I whispered, grabbing her hand. "Your family is coming to see you and donate their blood to you. You are going to be fine."

Daphne weakly turned her face towards me and smiled weakly, knowing that at last, her family was coming to her aid. She couldn't speak, but I knew that she was relieved just as much as I was that at long last, help was coming to us. Just then, the television in her room showed what appeared to be our plane back in Beirut and we saw John giving an interview from the cockpit with what appeared to be a gun at the back of his head.

"Quite well," he said to the reporters. "They're feeding us and they are letting us use the restrooms. I suppose under the circumstances, they are treating us quite well."

Suddenly, I saw the reporters run towards the aircraft, only to be sent back by the sounds of the terrorists' gun that was fired at the tarmac. Like I said, Daphne and I could only pray for the safe release of all who were still at the mercy of these monsters who were supposedly fighting for their brothers.

The next day, Daphne's family as well as Velma and Shaggy arrived at the hospital, determined to give us the support we needed to survive this traumatic episode. Daphne underwent the blood transfusion thanks to her sister, Amber, who had the same blood type as her and the long two weeks to recovery had begun for Daphne…


	11. Going Home

Chapter 11

"Going Home"

So, the two weeks went by quickly and soon, it was June 30th, 1985, a full two weeks since our ordeal began. Daphne had been in rehabilitation for two weeks, trying to get back to normal before the hijacking. Her ribs had healed was now walking normally again, much to our relief. There was even more good news for us when we watched the news that morning.

"Reports are coming out of Beirut today that the hostages of the hijacked TWA jetliner have been released by their captors and will be returning to the United States today," said Dan Rather of CBS News. "They will be flown to Germany on a military aircraft and then flown to Andrews Air Force Base aboard a chartered TWA jetliner where they will be met by President Reagan and Mrs. Reagan."

Just then, a knock was heard at the door and the US Ambassador to Algeria walked into the hospital room with Daphne's doctors flanking on each side.

"Are you the family of Daphne Blake?" he asked, walking towards us.

"We are her family," replied Elizabeth. "What is going on, Mr. Ambassador?"

"The hijackers have ordered the release of all the hostages," explained the Ambassador. "All of you are to leave for the United States today. A chartered private jet is waiting to fly you to Germany."

We knew at that moment that we were also going to be flown back to the United States with the other hostages. Just then, Daphne came out of the hospital shower wearing her favorite purple dress, pink tights and purple shoes. Her green scarf had been tied around her neck and fresh makeup was on her face.

"Great news, Daph," I said, happily. "We are going home today."

"Freddie, that's great," replied Daphne, hugging me carefully as her ribs had not fully healed. "I can't wait to get back home."

"We all are excited to get back," remarked George, her father. "The best thing is you will be coming home with us."

It seemed for Daphne that the terrorists had understood the message that she was trying to get across to the hijackers. They had a change of heart and released all the hostages they had without killing anyone. A little while later, we arrived at Algiers Airport and boarded a chartered US military plane for the flight to Rammstein Air Force base in Germany where we would meet our fellow hostages.

"Goodbye Algiers, hello home," I thought to myself as I held Daphne's hand while we lifted off from the runway.

Meanwhile, back in Beirut, John and the pilots decided that they would fly their hijacked jet to Germany and then fly with their passengers to Andrews Air Force base. The inside and outside of the aircraft had been written with several epitaphs and obscenities on the walls and doors in Arabic with lipstick confiscated from the passengers. Also, the toilets, consoles, and carpets were filthy with soda, food and urine spills. In all, the aircraft was a complete mess and it needed to be cleaned.

"I can't believe all this," remarked Ben as he and the other pilots looked over the messy aircraft. "They didn't even bother to clean the aircraft."

"What did you expect, Ben?" asked John as he picked up a moldy piece of bread from one of the first class seats. "They don't care about keeping the place clean."

"Still," said Ben. "It will sure be nice to get back home. Did you contact your wife yet?"

"I'll call her when we get to Germany," replied John as he and the other pilots stepped into the cockpit. "Although, I cannot help but wonder about why that woman gave herself up to the hijackers."

"I agree with you, John," said Phil, the first officer. "Was she trying to be like Jesus or something?"

John took a moment to think as he grabbed their inflight checklist. In his mind, he thought that Daphne was being stupid. He thought that if Daphne had sacrificed herself, then maybe God would notice their situation.

"We all try to be like Jesus," he finally repilied. "In a sense, the woman sacrificed herself and later rose again from the dead. That's all there is and nothing more. Let's get out of here."

Taking note of the statement made by their captain, the pilots began their pre-flight preparations and for the first time in two weeks, the aircraft moved out of its parking spot and taxied out to the runway.

"Flight 847, Flight 847 what are you doing?" asked the controller when he saw the aircraft move. "You have no authorization to move. Stay where you are!"

"Beirut, this is Trans World Airlines Flight 847," replied John over the radio. "We want to thank you for an interesting stay in Beirut. Hope you all have a nice day. TWA 847, out."

The controller wanted to protest, but at that moment, a representative of the Lebanese Minister of Defense came into the tower and handed the controller a paper. The paper read that the landing fees had been paid by TWA and that the aircraft was ordered to leave by the Lebanese government and the hijackers themselves.

Soon, the hijacked jet reached the runway and it was wheels up at 10:10am in the morning for the two and a half hour flight to Germany.

A little while later, we all arrived at Rammstein Air Force Base where Delilah, Daphne's sister was stationed and we witnessed many hostages reunite with their families including the two men we saw in Athens and the father who had his daughter's doll. As soon as we had landed, we all boarded a chartered TWA Lockheed aircraft with a destination of Andrews Air Force base.

"Look," called a voice as we boarded the aircraft. "That's the woman who gave herself up to the hijackers."

"They remember you, Daph," I whispered as we took our seats in first class. "They remember the sacrifice you made to the hijackers."

Daphne could only smile at this and know that her sacrifice was not without notice. Finally, the Flight 847 flight crew landed their Boeing 727 and parked it next to our charted plane. Seeing the hijacked aircraft land caused all of us to break into applause for we knew that our pilots had been freed from their own prison.

"Hello, folks!" cried John as he boarded the aircraft. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"

We all let out a cheer as the flight attendants came up and hugged their colleagues before taking their seats.

Shortly after noon, it was wheels up for our TWA jetliner heading west towards the United States…


	12. 30 Years Later

Chapter 12

"Nearly 30 years later"

So, we come back to where the story began: with me standing at Daphne's grave at the Pan Am 103 memorial in our hometown of Coolsville, New York. As the 30th anniversary of our ordeal approaches, I think back to that moment when Daphne made the ultimate sacrifice when a navy diver was savagely murdered by so called "Freedom Fighters."

"Sacrifice."

Ever since the TWA hijacking, that word has been playing in my head over and over again. Why does it keep playing in my head? Could it be that because I couldn't talk Daphne out of doing the unthinkable? Those were answers that I have still yet to find an answer to and I am no closer to finding one.

"Still having trouble thinking, Freddie?" asked a voice and I turned to see Daphne's ghost standing in back of me. "I have been wondering why I did what I did myself."

I walked over and sat next to the bench that was dedicated in Daphne's honor after the Pan Am 103 20th anniversary seven years ago.

"Daphne," I asked, looking up at her spirit. "Do you think that it was because you were trying to get a message across to the terrorists?"

"It could be," she replied. "I looked into the eyes of the men who took us hostage and I could see the fear that was in their eyes. I knew that they were doing something wrong and it wasn't because they just wanted to hijack an aircraft for fun."

"Of course, they weren't, Daph," I remarked. "They were trying to do something: they were trying to use us to gain the release of their friends and family. We just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Daphne then lifted up and looked back towards a smaller memorial for Robert Dean Stethem, the US Navy diver who was beaten, tortured and killed in the hijacking.

"I wonder," she replied, coming back down to my level. "Maybe God called us to be on the flight to get through to these tormented souls."

This caused my eyes to nearly pop out in surprise. How could God put us in this situation that we found ourselves in? We stared death in the face and suffered 17 days of agony in the Middle East.

"I mean, think about it," she continued. "Our original flight was cancelled because of mechanical issues. I think God caused our flight to be cancelled, because he needed us to help two of his children."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Were Abdul and Mustafa really children of God that needed help? To me, they were like all the other crazed fanaticals: hijacking an aircraft filled with people to gain the release of comrades jailed in various prisons.

"If you say so, Daph," I replied, sighing heavily. "But, I still think they were like all those before them. I haven't even traveled to the Middle East since then, because I fear the worst."

"What do you fear?" asked Daphne, a hint of disgust in her voice. "Not all people from the middle east are like those who hijacked our plane. You are just being prejudice, like all those other people. Sometimes, I consider myself lucky to not be on Earth."

I wanted to just make Daphne disappear, but I couldn't bear myself to do so. Daphne was my guardian angel and I feel that she was trying to get me to loosen up and change my ways. Sometimes, I considered ending my time on Earth and join Daphne in the eternal paradise. But, I couldn't because I would just be making a foolish mistake.

"Ohh, you're right, Daph," I sighed, calming myself down. "Maybe, I am being prejudice and I need a wakeup call. But, with our world today, I can't help myself."

"Then don't focus on the world's corruption," replied Daphne. "Only focus on what makes the world what it is…people who make accomplishments. I actually ran into the men who hijacked our plane and they are trying to earn their way up to heaven by helping others."

That was all she wanted me to do was to help others? I knew Daphne could be crazy, but not that crazy. Perhaps, she was right, I had to be better to people of all nations and backgrounds.

"All right, Daphne," I said. "Perhaps I should try to be not be so prejudicial. I need to be a better person and not let what happened that day dictate my views."

"That's what I would like to hear," replied Daphne, smiling warmly. "You can make a difference, Freddie. I know you can, just believe in yourself. I love you."

"I love you too, Daph," I said as I saw Daphne disappear before my eyes. "And I will try to be a better person."

Still, I couldn't help but think of whether I could not be so prejudicial. The memories of what happened aboard Flight 847 on June 14, 1985 were still fresh in my mind.

I will never forget the moments aboard the hijacked Boeing 727 from the moment we took off from Athens to that hospital room in Algiers. I have to sometimes play these moments in my head repeatedly to remind myself of that dark period, so that people never forget the story of how the love of my life gave herself up to the terrorists who were looking to harm anyone these chose.

I have a pent up anger and frustration towards a region of the world because of what happened, but I can't hold it in forever. I have to move on, although it isn't easy.

Still, I long for the day when I see my love in heaven in the presence of God and his son Jesus, with all those who lived and died for our freedom, including Robert Dean Stethem.

I am Fred Jones, and I will try my damn best to be a better person, no matter how long it takes…


End file.
